


One More Chance XXXI

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Malcos offers to escort Vajarra on her journey.





	One More Chance XXXI

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published January 5, 2009

North, that was the only clue Vajarra had, and the only direction to go from this little town on the bay. Vajarra looked up at the thick wooden beams of the ceiling, the covers pulled up to her chin. She had hardly slept last night, her mind too full of questions. She’d lain here as the embers in the fireplace slowly flickered out and died, and the pale grey light of dawn came in through the windows. If she left quietly, certainly Malcos wouldn’t notice — if he was still here at all.

Vajarra kicked the covers back, shivering as her hooves met the cold floor. She would just have to get dressed quickly, there was no time to waste if she meant to get out onto the road before anyone else woke. Something caught her attention though, a stark white in the sullen room. It was an envelope, tied with a silk ribbon. Vajarra stared at it for several seconds, trying to remember how it had got there. Her letter was tucked neatly into the pocket of her cloak, and it had been battered and crimped from travel; this paper was still fresh and crisp. Besides, that letter no longer had its ribbon. So it must have been left here, but when? She looked to the heavy wooden door, and back to the table. Had someone come in during the night? She didn’t think she had slept, but she must have or she would have heard the door creak open, the footsteps on the floorboards. Was he still here? She cocked her head, listening closely, but she could hear nothing but the far-away cries of birds somewhere across the water, and the jangling of pots from the kitchen downstairs. Her hands trembling, she picked the paper up and pulled the ribbon loose. It was his handwriting, of course it was. He was close by, and he would meet her soon. She just had to get away from that nosy night elf.

She hastily pulled on her heavy woolen dress and heel warmers, and draped her cloak over her shoulders. Carefully, she nudged the door open and peered out into the quiet hallway. Vajarra wasn’t entirely surprised to see Malcos there, his chair set just outside the door. It looked as if he’d been dozing, but his ears flicked and he opened his eyes to look calmly at her. That certainly complicated things.

“Leaving already?”

Vajarra huffed past him, taking care not to step too firmly on the boards; she’d learned that humans were annoyed by the sound of hoofsteps indoors. “Go away, Malcos,” she hissed back at him. “I don’t need your help.”

Malcos said nothing, only watching her with that look halfway between smug and annoyed, his ears pressed back. Well, at least he seemed to be listening for now. Downstairs, Vajarra purchased some cheese and some dry crusty bread and tucked them into her pack. She had no idea how long she would be traveling or where she would be going, but at least she would have food for a day or two. Though the sun was up, frost still clung to the grass of the courtyard, and for the first time Vajarra wished she had proper boots instead of hooves, no matter how silly they might look.

Sada, her ram, lowed in greeting to her at the stables. She had decided against bringing the talbuk stag, worried that he would not do well in the cold. His pelt was thin and fine, and he had been born on the plains of Nagrand, a place where the sun shone so brightly that it was difficult to even remember it here. So instead she had brought the shaggy grey ram, who at least was accustomed to walking on ice and snow, and even if he was a little stubborn, that could be an asset should any monsters attack them on the way. Vajarra untied the rope and led him out into the courtyard, climbing up onto the heavy saddle. Glancing toward the inn, she saw Malcos standing there, leisurely leaning against the doorframe as he watched her. Did he intend to follow her? She narrowed her eyes, urging the ram into a trot and then his rocky little gallop; she’d put as much distance between them as she could.

As she had guessed, there was only one main road out of the little town, and it led north. It was wide and looked well-traveled, the dark green trees with their needled boughs standing guard on either side. Here the land seemed to gain a bit more color, though what she thought to be grass at first was really a low-growing sort of brush, in greens and reds and golds. Vajarra wished she knew a bit more about plants and animals so she could know what they were; maybe when she returned home she could look them up. The road wound north, around the hills and steep canyons, and Vajarra stopped to look behind her every so often. Sometimes, she thought she saw a figure there, far back on the road, but others she convinced herself it was only her imagination.

By late morning, the sun had risen fully, but it did little to chase away the chill in the air. Fortunately, Vajarra could see the outline of towers not far in the distance. She’d ridden past some villages, the broad beams of their buildings decorated with ferocious dragon heads carved out of wood. The innkeeper had warned her to stay far away from these, and to look for the stone keep. Still, she couldn’t help but feel curious about her surroundings, just as she had when she’d stepped off the boat from Azuremyst isle. Herds of shaggy creatures moved over the ground, eating as they went, and here in the shadow of the keep they seemed especially bold. They reminded her of the clefthoofs in Nagrand, great dark brown creatures covered with thick shaggy hair, but these animals had enormous antlers that rose absurdly from their heads. Both the males and females seemed to have them, and even the young, though theirs were smaller and had fewer tines. After a moment’s consideration, Vajarra slid down from the ram’s damp saddle and took out a small chunk of her bread.

The strange, springy plants felt squishy beneath her hooves as she neared the quietly grazing herd. Vajarra tore off a little piece of bread and tossed it toward one of the calves. Though it was a baby, it would have come nearly up to her chest if she stood beside it. Its mother snorted, raising her head to look at Vajarra with its wide, dark eyes, and lowed at her. The calf sniffed at the bread once and tossed its head, hurrying to catch up with its mother. “Hey!” Vajarra called after it, carefully avoiding the wet spots on the ground. “Don’t you want something to eat?” Vajarra was aware of the ground rumbling beneath her for only a second before she felt the bull slam into her, knocking her down. It was massive, a snorting hill of fur and antlers — antlers that he was swinging around for another strike at her. Vajarra squealed in alarm, trying to get back up onto her hooves; the other members of the herd had broken into their clumsy gallop as they fled, and she could feel the ground rumbling beneath their weight.

She saw a flash of dark, and in a moment recognized it as Malcos, his blades flashing as he leapt up onto the animal’s back. It bellowed in anger, trying to reach him, but the elf was safely on the beast’s shoulders, and a moment later drove his dagger into the back of its neck. It snorted, shuddered, and took two more steps before collapsing into a heap on the cold ground. Vajarra scrambled up, wide-eyed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, brushing the twigs and dirt off of her dress.

Malcos snorted, sliding down off the animal’s back. “Making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

“I wasn’t,” Vajarra said, narrowing her eyes at him. “And why are you following me? I told you to stop skulking around.”

The night elf wiped his daggers off, returning her glare. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
